


somewhere in europe, maybe

by angelheartbeat



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Light Angst, Lots of Cuddling, M/M, Marriage Proposal, in the sense that they may not get their happy ending!, spoilers for mag 197!, very sappy and lovey but also they tease each other so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/pseuds/angelheartbeat
Summary: "When this is all over," Martin asks, running a hand through Jon's hair before dropping it back around his shoulders. "What should we do?"jon and martin think about what comes after, and jon ponders normality.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 114





	somewhere in europe, maybe

**Author's Note:**

> hiii  
> i have been in this fandom for six months now and i have stacks on stacks of wips to finish but no the fic i started four hours ago is the first one to be done
> 
> also the original idea was 100% inspired by zolf telling oscar theyd go on holiday together rqg ppl you get me. then it snowballed
> 
> n e way!! this is not gonna be canon compliant in any way im sure of it (imagine tho... god i wish) but its set after mag 197, after theyve come back from htr :]

"When this is all over," Martin asks, running a hand through Jon's hair before dropping it back around his shoulders. "What should we do?"

They're sitting on the floor of the tunnels again, cuddled up close to each other for warmth and for comfort in equal measure. It had been three quiet figures that rowed back across a near-endless sea, and delivered a seed of tentative, uneasy hope to their friends. None of them are convinced that Annabelle's plan will work. None of them particularly want to be the one to make the call.

So for the moment, they're digesting the information, and Jon and Martin are curled into one another.

"What do you mean?" Jon asks, twisting his head round slightly. Martin wrinkles his nose.

"Y'know. When it's back to how it was. What should we do? I think maybe we should go on holiday. Somewhere sunny. I've never really left Britain, you know."

"Martin-"

Before Jon can start to get his protests out - _we shouldn't get our hopes up, if anything goes wrong we're all fucked, one or both of us could die and I can't lose you, Martin -_ Martin shakes his head and squeezes Jon's shoulder gently. "Jon," he says, and his tone is even. Measured. Calmer than he's sounded in a while. "I know how shitty this all feels, but for the first time in god knows how long we have a genuine, actual thread of hope. I know it could go badly. But for just a little while, while it's just us, can we imagine that it won't? Can I imagine going on holiday with my boyfriend, please?"

Jon considers being a voice of reason, but ultimately decides it's far too much work and instead slumps further into Martin's side. "I suppose that's allowed," he says, teasing. He'd rather have hope, too.

"You're too kind," Martin snarks back, pressing a kiss to the top of Jon's head. They slot together like puzzle pieces, like this, a two-part jigsaw that clicks into place so perfectly. For a moment they fall back into quiet. The floor of the tunnels is cold beneath them, but Martin is warm, a solid presence for Jon to press against. A lifeline. An anchor.

"Somewhere in Europe, maybe?" he suggests after a moment spent just appreciating the rise and fall of Martin's chest. "My grandmother took me to Italy once, when I was little. It'd be nice to go again."

Martin hums. "Italy sounds nice. I can see us in Italy."

"We'll probably have to get jobs. To afford it," Jon adds, and is met with a groan. 

"I can't _believe_ you're reminding me that we have to go back to a world where capitalism exists. Maybe I _don't_ want to fix the universe."

Jon nods, sagely. "You're right. I think the price to pay is just too great."

They both chuckle, and Martin's turns into a exhaled huff. "Actually, I think it might almost be nice to have a normal job again. Just- experience the mundane, y'know? I don't think any shitty boss could be worse than Jonah Magnus, in any case, so we can only go up from here."

"Hm. I wonder if we could add saving the world to our CVs."

That makes Martin snort, which sets Jon off into laughter, and for a few moments they just laugh more than the joke warranted, soaking up each other's presence as much as they're able. Martin's hand finds Jon's, laces their fingers together, squeezes tight. They're okay, in this moment. Even with the world collapsed around them, and what feels like an impossible, risky task to build it back up ahead of them, they're okay. Jon couldn't be more grateful. He couldn't be more scared.

"Remember when you asked if I was a ghost?" Martin asks suddenly, half into Jon's hair. "When we were hiding from Prentiss."

"Christ, Martin, don't remind me. I've spent years trying _not_ to remember that." It's half a joke. Once the adrenaline had worn off, and so had the hefty painkillers he'd been given for his newly scarred look, he'd been forced to face the fact that he'd asked his co-worker if he was a bloody _ghost_. Paranoia had quickly taken over any embarrassment, though, which could be seen as a blessing if it wasn't for the overwhelmingly negative effect it had had otherwise. Now, though? God, that's embarrassing.

"Sorry," says Martin, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Jon can feel him smiling into the side of his head, the bastard. "Was just thinking. That really felt like the worst thing that could possibly have happened at the time, didn't it? Prentiss, I mean. And that moment just felt… not as bad, I guess. Felt normal, when nothing else did."

Jon considers it. That conversation with Martin in document storage feels like decades ago, but he's right. It had felt normal. It had felt right, even sat across from each other with a tape recorder between them and a bit of fabric held to the newly-corkscrewed wounds in his flesh, a monster just a few inches of wood and glass away. In retrospect, Martin had always felt right. Felt safe. Jon's just annoyed he never recognised it sooner.

"Prentiss was still pretty bad," he says instead of being cheesy, and he can almost hear Martin's eye roll.

"Yes, Jon, I know that. I just mean, you know. We've been through far worse at this point. You especially."

Jon huffs a smile. "Can't wait for my trophy. Congratulations, you win the worst trauma award!"

"And here's your prize: therapy!" Martin cries back, in an exaggerated game show host voice. 

"Do I still win the trip to Italy with my boyfriend, too? That's the prize I was really hoping for."

Martin shrugs. "Dunno. Apparently your boyfriend might be slaving away in a capitalist society again. I'll have to check my schedule."

"Bastard."

He's answered with another kiss to the top of his head, and a squeeze of his hand, and he can't help the smile that passes over his face. Yeah, this feels right. This feels normal, or as normal as the apocalypse can. He brings their joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to Martin's knuckles, closing his eyes for a second. Thinking.

 _This is all I want,_ he thinks. _You're all I want. You're the only reason I can do this, any of this. I love you_.

He says the last bit out loud, and Martin whispers the response, for only him to hear. 

"I just want to be able to go to Italy with you," continues Jon. "And get a cottage together and read in the evenings. We could have a garden. I know you like gardening."

"You remembered I like to garden," says Martin, soft, like the sentence is fragile. Jon can feel the hesitant smile on his face, and nods.

"You could make fun of the way I make tea, even though it's not all that bad-"

" _Three_ teabags, Jon, really-"

"We could be normal. Regular, boring people, with lives and jobs and hobbies who get to come home and just exist. No eldritch horrors to take us away from each other."

"Are you saying you want to grow old with me, Jonathan Sims?"

It's teasing, but Jon is struck with the sudden, burning knowledge that he _does_. He sort of already knew it, in the back of his mind, but now it's in the forefront he knows it like its burned into the inside of his skull. He wants to grow old with Martin, wants to have silly arguments and bantering debates and to crawl into bed together at the end of long days. He wants to spend the rest of his life with Martin, curled into one another like puzzle pieces.

"I think I'm saying I want to marry you, Martin Blackwood," he says, gentle, almost a whisper into the empty air. Martin goes quiet, for long enough to Jon to twist around and look at him properly, a sudden pang of worry in his chest.

"What?" Martin whispers, as soon as Jon is looking at him. His eyes are wide behind smudged glasses.

"When this is all over," he says, hesitantly, chewing his lip. "I'd like to get married. If you'll have me. I- I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you."

Christ, he hopes he hasn't messed this up. He didn't exactly have it planned. Martin's biting his lip, and for a horrible moment Jon thinks he's ruined everything, but then- he nods. 

"Is- is that a yes?"

"Of-fucking- _course_ it's a yes, Jon!" Martin explodes with, before launching himself towards Jon and pulling him into a kiss. It's only brief, before he pulls back away and bonks their foreheads together softly, holding Jon's face in his hands.

"Well. I'm glad that's sorted," Jon says. "Now we have double the reason to save the world."

"Maybe the holiday could be a honeymoon," suggests Martin. He sounds slightly giddy, cheeks flushed, wearing the widest smile he can.

Jon just nods. This feels so _right_ he can't even put it into words. He wants to have hope so badly. He wants to believe in a future where they can garden and read and drink tea and have shitty jobs and get caught in the rain and complain about supermarket prices, so he _will_. They can do this. He has to believe it. He's going to cling on to that thread of hope like it's as much a lifeline as Martin himself.

And god, Martin really is a lifeline. Martin is right, and Martin is safety, and Jon loves him _so much_. They _will_ get their happy ending. He has to believe that.

They kiss again, and Jon clings to the anchor that is his love, his fiancé, his reason, his Martin, and trusts that they will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> i want them to have a happy ending so goddamn badly but on the flipside i am so ready for jonny motherfucking sims to tear my heart out and eat it
> 
> im thoriffix on tumblr! come say hi i post about rusty quill a lot atm
> 
> comments very much appreciated


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